Perch @perchingpath@eldritch.cafe
Scarp scree clatter. Register swerves, confusions of scale.
She, elle.
Within 30 miles of Philadelphia, because of a curse.
Joined Sep 2018
Pinned toot
Gayfeather, colic-root, rattlesnake-master, blazing star,( devil's bite, Cahaba torch, prairie-pine,) I took your list to that fireworks store in Upland, gathered & checked off each rocket, then imagined how you'd stare at a forest fire (guilty? gleeful?) as I put them all back.
It's been my birthday, again. In my decrepit seclusion I've come to prefer my Kir royal with only a craven little American splash of cassis—a change in palate which must portend sinister action. This is the year I'll tear off someone's necklace & swallow their gems while staring them malevolently in the eyes.
Even the more recalcitrant of my convalescent feet allowed me a midnight walk of 7 blocks, a distance sufficient both to crest a hill into a turbulent outburst of wind that shoved me to & fro like the crowds I've been pining for, &! to share the sidewalk with a fox on an urgent errand. A gift!
blood, feet, surgery, house-razing
While cutting at my feet, my surgeon mentioned that her house had just burned. The details echoed, startlingly closely, those of the house-fire I narrowly escaped as a child, but I was too preoccupied with bleeding & being sympathetic to worry that I might be a carrier for a curse.
blood
Post-surgically blood-tipsy, goring up my outfit in a stretching languor.
I saw another foraging party of black vultures (& clasped my hands at my chest in delight). It was a younger group—some still had mussed manes of juvenile feathers! They'd dragged a roadside meal halfway up a hill, and again felt like the sort of party I'd covet an invitation to.
Sunsets can be safely watched through the windows of moving vehicles, or through meshes of branches parallaxing as you run. In other circumstances, even the best thereof, the need to be elsewhere can swell until it constricts the lungs.
At some point I heard Dennis Wheatley tell an interviewer that while he knew any number of prominent occultists, he'd always refrained, himself, because that sort of enthusiasm made one apt to neglect one's wife & career.
Leant close on the stoop to douse the candles in our skulls.
The ghost haunts a subway bench at 13th Street until the fluorescent tubes wear out. The ghost haunts the sidewalk flower beds at Market & 38th until the ornamental cabbages desiccate.
Brushed hands with the vet tech as I handed him a carrier-full of ill cat and, later, after hearing a relatively rosy prognosis, realized it'd been the first time I'd touched someone in nearly three months. That's an awful long time to go without checking whether I'm a ghost yet.
Sat weeping in bed having finally escaped a pseudo-dream of pure unbearable sound/texture, smooth-rasping cotton-corium-contrail-?-?, the sort of nightmare I must have had as an infant who always woke up inconsolable.
Perch
boosted
Image from page 21 of "Character and treatment of swamp or muck soils [microform]" (1909)
https://www.flickr.com/photos/internetarchivebookimages/20621465586/
Bit that finial clean off. Snap! Gone. One less orb on your manse.
Suddenly I dove under the bed and gently bundled a stunned mouse into my handkerchief. That brings me even with the cats at 1-all for the season.
Chain-chewing Sichuan peppercorns to hoax my tongue into reporting an unexpected frost, admonishing the incredulous rest of me not to doubt it.
Emitting frequent gamma-ray bursts to the detriment of my houseplants.
She cut me off four years ago(, worried, I suspect, that I might influence her effete son), but in this morning's dream she told me about the Dister, a type of dog bred for antipathy & muscularity over centuries to create an animal that'd attempt to destroy all other life on sight.
In a better night where you are is serene, restful, & I'm out sweating on a runoff-wrecked wasteland heath 60 miles from nowhere in a crowd whose devout love of explosions, unsullied by patriotism, has us ready to blow up the whole sky.
My album of the year so far is Moor Jewelry's True Opera. A way through useless bitter fugs of dread, over&over. Punk, I guess, jagged, I guess, but every instrument unavoidable & infinitely textured always like a comforting weight of sea-eroded concrete.
https://moorxjewelry.bandcamp.com/track/look-alive
Scarp scree clatter. Register swerves, confusions of scale.
She, elle.
Within 30 miles of Philadelphia, because of a curse.
Joined Sep 2018
